


The Academy

by Sarea Okelani (sarea)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror academy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-29
Updated: 2008-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:45:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarea/pseuds/Sarea%20Okelani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While at the Ministry's Auror training academy, Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy learn that being friends might be harder than being foes. Or, "And that's why you don't teach your worst enemy lessons."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Academy

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to stick as close to canon as possible (with the exception of the epilogue from book 7), but I may have strayed here or there. The Auror trainee example letter is paraphrased from an episode of Arrested Development when Buster writes a postcard home while in the Army. There's another reference to AD in the summary. If you don't know what a chip butty is, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chip_butty. Several names of people and places reference World of Warcraft. Thanks to Mother's Circus Animal cookies and Tazo tea for providing energy boosts. Thanks to the dgficexchange for getting me writing. And thank you so, so much to my awesome beta Jade, without whom this story might never have been written. Seriously. She held the whip and got me through the tough patches, then took my rough draft and made it shine with her beta.

The Academy  
by Sarea Okelani

~*~

Musical chimes woke Ginny from a deep sleep. "Time marches on," proclaimed a little wooden soldier from its spot on her bed stand. In one hand he held a set of small chimes, which he was gently swaying back and forth, creating a soothing, melodic tune. Ginny snuggled a bit deeper into her covers, burying her nose into the pillow. The room was still dark, not uncommon for this time of year despite it being morning, but mostly it was due to the heavy drapes that had been drawn over the windows. The fire in the grate had abated in the night, and the room was chilly. The wooden soldier made its point several more times, nagging at Ginny's consciousness, then fell blissfully silent, allowing her to drift back to sleep.

Some undetermined time later, she was unceremoniously roused from her slumber once more by a hard, blunt object colliding with her head. "TIME MARCHES ON! TIME MARCHES ON!" the wooden soldier announced with quite a bit more impatience than it had the first time. And if that weren't bad enough, it was simultaneously beating Ginny about the head with its mallet, which it had in its other hand. The chimes were silent now, except for the occasional jangle when the soldier's frenetic activities caused the chimes to bump against one another.

"OW! Owwwwwwww! Quit that, I'm up, I'm up!" Ginny cried, bolting into a sitting position and waving her arms about frantically. The wooden soldier, which had been hovering over her, dodged each one of her flailing swings.

"ON YOUR FEET, SOLDIER!" it shouted, whizzing in to whack Ginny on the head once more.

Obediently she jumped out of bed, at which point the alarm subsided, serenely coming to a rest atop her bed stand once more.

"I hate you," Ginny said with feeling. It didn't so much as blink at her, still as a statue now that its job had been accomplished.

"And I hate the both of you," grumbled Nestia Fynt from across the room. "Every bloody morning, Ginny - why do you have to get up so early?"

"No reason, I'm just a morning person," she lied, stuffing her feet into kneazle-shaped slippers and gathering her morning shower things.

Nestia snorted, shifted in her bed, and pulled the covers over her ears. "I'm going to burn that thing," she mumbled, just before falling asleep again.

Ginny rushed to the shower to begin her daily ablutions. The hot water felt great given how cold it was, and she might have tarried a minute or two longer than she meant to. She told herself it didn't matter; she had set her alarm for half an hour earlier than she usually woke up. She should have plenty of time to grab a quick slice of toast at the canteen and still make it to the pitch before Malfoy got there.

Except that she was wrong. She was brushing the crumbs off her robes as she neared the pitch where the Evasive Maneuvering class took place when she spotted a figure already in the air, dodging objects that hurtled at him randomly. Even from this distance she knew it was Malfoy.

"Bugger," Ginny muttered. How the hell had he beaten her again? She'd had it on good authority that he normally didn't get here until 7 o'clock, and it was only 6:30!

"Weasley. Nice of you to join us," Auror Higgins called from the sidelines. "Suit up."

Ginny donned the layers of protective gear, gritting her teeth all the while. Sessions didn't officially start until 8 o'clock, but extra training was made available to those who wanted to get in the extra practice. Typically only Ginny, Malfoy, and an inconsistent handful of other students opted for the early morning sessions - most preferred to take advantage of those offered in the evening. Ginny couldn't make those, however, being that that was when the Defensive Magic course was taught, and she hadn't missed a single one of those, either.

When she was ready, she grabbed one of the training brooms from the stack of available ones in the storage shed, and flew up to join Malfoy. The Bronco Brooms were specially designed to make it difficult for the rider to perform feinting or dodging maneuvers in order to build up the Auror's muscle tone and increase athleticism. If you were able to master the training sessions on these brooms, you could do anything on a regular broom, which had much more sensitivity.

Ignoring Malfoy, Ginny cast the spell that would start her own set of objects coming at her from random directions. After about 15 minutes of this workout, she completely forgot about everything but the exercise. It made her breathe hard, caused her muscles to strain, and forced sweat to trickle down from her hairline so she had to blink the droplets away. She couldn't afford to let go of the broom for more than a second, or risk getting knocked off by one of the exercise objects. And she didn't particularly relish the bruises she'd get from the fall, nor was she about to lose precious training time recovering in the infirmary from an accident. Peripherally, she noticed that other trainees had joined her and Malfoy on the pitch, and it seemed that everyone was involved in a graceful dance, dodging their own objects, the objects of the other trainees, and of course, each other.

In fact, she was so focused on her training that she was more startled than she should have been when a figure flew right in front of her. She abruptly stopped short, trying to not to collide with the person, but they were long gone. In her startled state she had overcorrected slightly, and needed to reseat herself properly. Her hands felt clammy on the broom as she worked to slow her erratic heartbeat.

"Losing your concentration like that will get you killed, Weasley," called a most unwelcome voice.

"I _was_ concentrating," she shouted back, even though she'd wanted to ignore him.

"You get lost in your own little world. You're unaware of your surroundings. You were surprised."

"Well you shouldn't have cut me off like that!" she retorted, stung by his censure.

"It wasn't me." He raised an eyebrow and flew off.

Ginny opened her mouth to say something - she didn't know what - but just then a purple crate swiped her broom and she was forced to veer in the opposite direction.

Damn that Malfoy. Who did he think he was, anyway? He didn't even belong here. He came from a family of Death Eaters and she just _knew_ he was a Dark Lord sympathizer. Those people were still out there, waiting in the shadows, biding their time until another Tom Riddle came along to feed their hubristic fantasies of power. Malfoy only wanted to be an Auror so he could be on the inside, have power and direct knowledge of the Ministry, and weaken the institution that upheld Wizarding laws by secretly creating chaos and dissention among its ranks. She was sure of it.

Perhaps it was a bit paranoid, and maybe she was ever so slightly biased, but she couldn't help the way she felt, the instinct she had about Malfoy. She had history with him that others did not. And all right, maybe that was when they'd been children, but still, he was _Malfoy_. No one else seemed to see it. At first she had hoped that he would be a terrible Auror and fail out of the Academy on his own. Instead, he was a model trainee; he excelled at his studies and his field work was stellar. His practical training teams nearly always took first or second place. His work ethic was unparalleled - no one worked as hard as he did, trained as hard as he did, studied as hard as he did. No one, of course, but Ginny, who was still flying about the pitch trying to blow stray locks of hair out of her eyes while avoiding sinister-looking animated gnomes.

It had started out as a noble pursuit, a way to prove that he had, as usual, ulterior motives. As her own frustration with his spotless record and her inability to reveal him for what he was mounted, she did occasionally question whether or not her instincts about him were correct. But those doubts didn't sway her for long. She was absolutely determined to beat him at his own game, for her own personal gratification if nothing else. After everything, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being able to say that he was better, or smarter, or that he'd make a better Auror, than her. Not Malfoy, of all people.

Over her dead body would she let that happen.

~*~

It had all begun about a year ago, when Ginny had grown weary of finding a job that specialized in Herbology, her best subject in school. None of the jobs she tried were stimulating enough for her to actually imagine spending her life doing it. She was a year out of Hogwarts, and her relationship with Harry long over, when she finally decided that she wanted to join the Ministry of Magic and begin Auror training. Harry and Ron, having decided their career choices early on, were already a couple of years ahead of her and working on their final years of training at the Ministry offices in London.

Though Ginny had been a participant of the Battle of Hogwarts and, per the decree made by Minister Shacklebolt concerning veterans of that particular battle, could have started training regardless of the merits she'd achieved at school, she was proud of the fact that she had attained enough N.E.W.T.s to have qualified for Auror training on her own steam. After several owl-backs in which she underwent a series of psychological tests to ensure that she wasn't going to abuse the powers she'd be given as an agent of the Ministry, she was officially admitted as an Auror trainee and began the rigorous 4-year training program that, at the end of which, would earn her full-fledged Auror privileges.

For the first two years of the program, trainees lived and worked at a 200-acre Auror Academy, located on the outskirts of Leeds. The exact location was undisclosed, and any attempt - deliberate or accidental - to reveal the location was thwarted by the Ministry's prevention capabilities, which removed certain details due to security purposes.

Thus, a letter home might read: _Auror [BLANK] is treating me very [BLANK]. And it looks like I'll be Portkeying off to [BLANK] in about a [BLANK]. I [BLANK] you, Mother. Buster Broome._

The lush, well-manicured grounds, the musty instruction rooms, sharing a room with another girl her age (though admittedly not in a castle), and of course, a number of familiar faces, all reminded her of being in school again. It was almost as if she had never left Hogwarts.

Of course, she didn't know how true that was until she went to New Auror Orientation and espied, among the hundred or so other new trainees in the room, Draco Malfoy. It was him, unmistakably so. What was _he_ doing here? Throughout the presentations from current Aurors, Academy instructors, Head Auror Vance, and a special keynote from Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ginny couldn't help but glance his way. He seemed oblivious to the attention, both from her and from other students who had also recognized him and whispered amongst themselves. She hadn't seen him in over two years; he'd disappeared after the Battle of Hogwarts and it had been rumored that he'd gone to Durmstrang to finish out his studies. He did look older, but she wasn't sure if that was because he'd changed that much physically or because she saw everything with different eyes after the war.

After the orientation they'd been shown to the respective men's and women's barracks, and after a light lunch had immediately begun instruction.

Malfoy had been in her first class, a historical seminar that covered both the First and Second Wizarding Wars. While there were a handful of trainees who had experienced the Battle of Hogwarts, most had either been too young or too old to have participated, hadn't been in the country, or just plain hadn't attended school at Hogwarts. It was strange to Ginny to watch people reading about it in their textbooks, when the events were still so fresh in her mind that she could recall the minutest detail with ease.

"Many brave wizards and witches gave their lives that day, to ensure that our world would be free from the forces of tyranny and evil," the instructor said, and Ginny had felt her chest tighten, the way it always did when she was reminded that she now had five brothers instead of six. She looked down at her textbook in case emotion got the better of her and she started crying. After a few moments, feeling more composed, she'd looked back up, but felt eyes on her. She looked to her left, and there was Malfoy, looking at her. He didn't seem abashed at being caught staring.

She glared at him in response. She wasn't ashamed of her emotion and wasn't about to let him bully her into feeling that way. Fred had died that day, and Malfoy had indirectly been responsible for his death. If it hadn't been for him, Death Eaters wouldn't have gotten into Hogwarts, Dumbledore wouldn't have died, and the entire battle might have been averted - Voldemort would never have been able to go as far as he did had Dumbledore been around…

After awhile Malfoy turned to face the instructor again, without ever actually having acknowledged Ginny in any way, nor seeming affected by the scathing mental tirade she'd unleashed on him in her mind. Fuming, Ginny refused to look at Malfoy for the rest of the session, nor in any of the other sessions she'd had that day, many of which she'd shared with him.

~*~

Ginny bit the tip of her quill, nervously fidgeting with the pot of ink on her desk as she waited for Auror Pincutt to begin the exam. She hated these moments just before an exam, when she had time to wallow in all her fears about how prepared she was - or wasn't - going over the course materials over and over in her head, and wondering whether this would be the last exam she'd take as a trainee, because if she failed it she was sure to be removed from the Academy.

_Take deep breaths,_ she told herself. _Deep, even breaths. Close your eyes. Don't think about the test. Think about the Burrow on a nice sunny day. Think about the way the air feels when you're going top speed on your broom. Think about a warm, freshly baked chocolate chip muffin, slathered with butter and--_

"Praying to various deities isn't going to help you now, Weasley. Also, don't be looking over my shoulder. They frown upon cheating here."

Ginny's eyes snapped open and she gave Malfoy a baleful look. He'd chosen the seat in front of her so he could irritate her and distract her from the exam, she was sure of it.

"And why would I copy off you?" she sniped. "I aim to do _well_." As a comeback it was fairly decent, but it wasn't based entirely on truth. Malfoy's exam scores were maddeningly good, even in this class, which was surprising given that it was Muggle Studies - a subject Ginny would have thought he'd consider beneath him to have any knowledge about.

But she'd learned her lesson early on not to underestimate him. She still remembered the first Muggle Studies exam she'd ever taken - and how galling it had been, getting outscored by Malfoy. He'd been sitting next to her at the time, had looked at his own score, then leaned a bit over to look at hers. She'd been pretty proud of her marks, actually, and looked straight ahead, not caring if he saw that she had done well.

"Well, Weasley," he'd said, "that's a good score."

"Thanks," she'd replied shortly.

"But not quite as good as mine," he'd added, and despite herself, Ginny had grabbed his exam to see if it was true. And it was - he had scored higher than her! By two measly points! In Muggle Studies, of all things! How was that possible?

Correctly interpreting the various emotions that crossed her face, Malfoy had delicately snatched his exam back with his thumb and forefinger and said, "I thought you knew all about this stuff, Weasley? A supposed Muggle expert and I still managed to beat you?"

"I never said I was an expert!" she'd retorted. "Anyway, let's see how you do on the practical portion!"

Thankfully she went on to outscore him soundly during the practical exam, by successfully placing a "telephone call" and making a purchase on a "Web site" with a "computer" on the "Internet." If he had beaten her on the practical as well, she would not have gotten a wink of sleep that night.

Back in the present, Auror Pincutt announced that the exam was beginning. "Good luck, Weasley." Malfoy smirked, and the implied _you'll need it_ was left unsaid.

He turned around and began to work on his exam. Ginny gritted her teeth and glared at the back of his head, cursing him with her brain. If she'd been 7 years old without the ability to control her magic, Malfoy's head would be a nice shade of bald by now.

Ginny looked down at her parchment as the exam began to materialize itself on the page. There were multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank sections, as well as 10 short essay portions. She skimmed the first question quickly, and relaxed a bit when she realized she could answer easily.

_What are the three elements of Muggle English Parliament, and what are the responsibilities of each?_

Ginny turned the parchment over again to start from the beginning. She didn't have time to be in a strop over Malfoy. She had work to do. And if she happened to annihilate his exam scores, all the better.

~*~

"So how do you think you did?" Anthony Ingel, a wizard several years older than Ginny who had formerly been a botanist with a private herb firm, asked conversationally as the Muggle Studies group filed out of the classroom.

Ginny shrugged, which was a little awkward as she was also putting on an outer robe at the same time - it was early winter, and chilly. "All right, I guess." She had done fairly well on the written portion, she thought, but perhaps not as well as she might have hoped for. There had been a few questions she wasn't entirely sure about, which made her feel a bit anxious. She wanted to go check her textbooks for the answers, but she had field exercises next and couldn't. The serene look on Malfoy's face after they had all turned in their examination papers and had gotten up to prepare for the practical portion hadn't made her feel much better. "I did a lot better on the practical."

Anthony grimaced. "I'm pretty sure I failed it. I knew I was in trouble when the first activity was 'A Night at the Opera.' I don't even know what an opera _is_. I used a nurse's uniform, because I thought it might have to do with operations, and we'd just learned about Muggle doctors." At the look on Ginny's face he protested, "Well I didn't know! I made a wild guess!"

"They ought to give points for creativity," Ginny soothed, even though inwardly she was giggling to herself. They had had to dress life-sized mannequins in proper Muggle clothing (provided on large communal clothing racks that several house-elves wheeled in) based on various Muggle activities. Each trainee was given a total of five prompts, with a different prompt each round, so no one could cheat off someone else. Points were awarded based on the accuracy of the attire, practical application, and style considerations. Ginny was thankful for Ron, an avid reader of the comic _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_, which she had sometimes read out of sheer boredom. It'd had fairly accurate depictions of Muggles in various states of dress - in fact, it had been the only interesting aspect of the comic to her.

"How often would we be going undercover as Muggles anyway?" Anthony grumbled.

"Often enough, I suppose," said Ginny, but she was distracted by the sight of Malfoy, who was a few meters ahead of them. She tensed, reminded that she'd have to face yet another hour of instruction with him as they shared field exercises as well. She mumbled a "see you later" to Anthony, who was heading off to another class.

Ginny deliberately did not speed up her pace, hoping to avoid catching up to Malfoy and being forced to acknowledge him in any way. Her Hogwarts instincts were still primed, and she knew she preferred to be the one behind him instead of the other way around. He had the vulnerable position, and though Ginny didn't plan to exploit that in any way, she couldn't be sure he'd be as generous.

"Like the view, Weasley?" he called out, without turning around.

Ginny felt her face flame. How had he known she was behind him? Now she was forced to catch up to him, or risk implying that she did, in fact, enjoy the view of his backside. Which she most certainly did not.

She increased her pace until they were walking side by side. She stared stonily forward until they reached the training barracks. To her surprise, he held the door open for her. She was too startled to fear that it was all a joke and she'd find herself getting hit on the rear end by the door. By the time the thought occurred to her, they were both inside and it was shutting behind them. Without a word Malfoy began to remove his outer robe and don the required protective gear that the Ministry provided. Ginny followed suit.

"Weasley. Malfoy. You're up," barked Auror Lichking. "Remember, your object is to stun and disarm. Showalter and Peters, you're next! Get prepared!"

Ginny and Malfoy took their places on opposite ends of the room. They would each take a turn to fire off a spell, while the other would perform a defensive maneuver to counter it. They always opened with these training basics.

As they began to volley spells back and forth, Ginny couldn't help but continue to think about his almost civilized behavior on their way to this session. Malfoy was the most maddening person she had ever known in real life, yet she could not articulate exactly why. Ron could articulate _his_ reasons, but Ginny was not sure his reasons were the same as hers, though they probably should have been. "He's too good at everything" seemed a petty reason to dislike someone, and she thought she was above that sort of thing. Also, "He was an annoying arse while we were at school" made her seem immature, or like the sort of person who held grudges.

"_Stupefy_!" Ginny shouted. The spell shot out of her wand, with such force that the recoil sent a reverberation up her arm. She watched, horrified, as Malfoy's counter curse went wide right, and he was struck in the shoulder by her spell. He jerked from the force of impact, then collapsed and was still.

"Malfoy!" she cried, running forward. The other students were silent as Lichking pushed past them to get to the unmoving form of Draco Malfoy.

"Auror Lichking, is he … is he … okay?" The word 'dead' was on the tip of her tongue, but Ginny couldn't bring herself to say the word. Part of her couldn't believe this was happening as she dropped to the ground beside Malfoy's prone form. "I didn't mean to-"

Lichking cast _Ennervate_ in the midst of Ginny's rambling.

"Please, Weasley," Malfoy groaned, still not moving but opening his eyes. The unexpected sound of his voice caused Ginny to gasp. "Don't flatter yourself."

The tide of relief Ginny was feeling that he was still alive gave way to annoyance. "It was a beautiful shot. Completely clean."

"Sure. Which wouldn't have had a chance in hell of hitting me had I not been distracted."

"Why can't you just admit that I beat you?"

"I will admit you've beaten me when you've actually beaten me," he countered. "Owww, my head…"

"Malfoy, get your head out of the clouds or the gutter, wherever it might be residing at the moment. If this hadn't been a training exercise you'd likely be dead," Lichking reprimanded. "Weasley, get him to the infirmary. Have one of the nurses look after him and make sure he hasn't concussed himself."

"Me?" Ginny asked in dismay. "But what about training?"

"You brought a man down today, Weasley, be satisfied with that," Lichking replied dryly. "He may need some help." They both looked at Malfoy, who was gingerly sitting up and holding his head.

"Oh fine," she grumbled. "Let's go, Malfoy."

"Little help?" He held out a hand, and Ginny looked at it warily. "Least you could do, Weasley."

Reluctantly, she grasped his hand and pulled him up. He was warmer than she'd thought he'd be, warm and pleasantly dry. Her old boyfriends, including Harry, hadn't had hands this nicely dry. One of these hands had held a door open for her earlier. Ginny shoved the rogue thoughts aside and dropped Malfoy's hand as soon as he was in a standing position.

This time she was the one holding open the door for him as he held his head and hobbled out, squinting into the sun, which had momentarily peeked out from behind the usual covering of clouds.

"Want me to use _Wingardiam Leviosa_ on you?" she asked sweetly, raising her wand.

He waved her away. "I think I've had enough 'help' from your wand." He made a show of clutching his shoulder.

Once they were out of sight of the training barracks his hobbling gait suddenly became much smoother and more natural, his shoulders straightened, and the half-grimace on his face disappeared.

"What-" Ginny began, then realization dawned. "You dirty faker!" she accused.

"I wasn't faking," he said. "Entirely. I mean, it _did_ hurt when the spell hit. And I did get the wind knocked out of me. That's not a pleasant feeling."

Ginny glared at him. "Why the theatrics?" She pointed a finger at him. "You just wanted me to lose training time, didn't you!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Didn't feel like being there anymore. Anyway, Weasley, there's nothing they could teach us in there at this point." He kicked a small twig.

The way he said it, simply, without any inflection, made Ginny fall silent. There was no training ground at this point that could ever match what she'd been through at the Battle of Hogwarts, that was true - she'd faced real death, and no classroom setting could ever replicate the real thing.

"Especially because you and I both know that if it came right down to it, you wouldn't be able to kill anyone," Malfoy said, turning to look at her.

"And we both know that you have no talent for justice or compassion and would rather curse first, then ask questions later," she shot back. In the back of her mind, however, she half suspected he was right. Her first instinct would always be to incapacitate, not destroy. That did not, however, make her any less of an Auror candidate than Malfoy.

Malfoy looked amused.

"You think your propensity to kill makes you a better candidate?" Ginny demanded, goaded.

One ash-blond eyebrow rose. "Did I say that? Weasley, you make a lot of assumptions."

They had arrived at the infirmary. "So is this charade over?" she asked sarcastically, but was genuinely curious to see how far he'd go.

"Of course not," Malfoy replied. "Lichking will be asking after me. If the nurses don't give him a report about me he'll know I … exaggerated the extent of my injuries."

"And what makes you think _I_ won't report you?"

He grinned, and it was disarmingly attractive. Had she ever seen him smile before? The shock of it dried all the moisture from Ginny's mouth. "I don't. It's kind of exciting, really."

She turned to go, but his next words stopped her. "Some of us are going into Orgrimmar tomorrow night to unwind, have a drink, see something other than these blasted grounds," he said casually. "Want to come?"

"What?" she asked stupidly.

"It's a social event, Weasley. Surely having 25 brothers has at least introduced you to the concept?"

That got her back up. "It's one less now, or perhaps you don't recall, having been on the other side of things," she said tartly.

Something indefinable crossed his face. "None of us wanted what happened that day," was all he said. She could tell that he meant it, which threw her for a loop, and the fact that he'd actually bothered to reply to her seriously caused some of the animosity she felt to fade.

"Trainees aren't allowed to drink. It's in the handbook," she said, as it was the only thing she could think of in response, wanting to drop the more emotionally driven subject.

"I won't tell if you won't." Malfoy smiled again, and a very funny feeling came over Ginny.

"Is this a trick? Trying to get me into trouble so I'll get expelled?"

He sighed. "If it was a trick, would I tell you? We're meeting by the Dumbledore statue at 8. Oh, sod it. Come or not, I don't care." Without a look back he swung open the door to the infirmary and went inside, leaving a perplexed Ginny standing at the entrance.

"What's your game, Malfoy?"she muttered to herself as she stomped back to the training barracks. If this was some sort of test, to see if she had the chutzpah to bend the rules a little, she'd show him. She was made of chutzpah. She laughed (quietly) in the face of rules. She wasn't Fred and George's sister for nothing. She'd been the Gryffindor, not Malfoy. She had a legacy to uphold, of House and family.

If Malfoy was out to try and put something over on her, he'd live to regret it.

~*~

Ginny arrived at the statue promptly at 8, and was a bit disconcerted to find that she was the only person there. So was this just one of Malfoy's usual tricks to try and humiliate a Weasley then? Well he'd have to work harder if that was the case; standing about for 15 minutes never hurt anyone. The night was cold and starry; she could see little puffs of her breath as she exhaled. She took the time to study the marble rendering of Dumbledore, the likeness very good but of course, no replacement for the real thing. She felt a familiar tightening in her chest but was brought out of her reverie by the sounds of talking and laughing. She turned to find Lindsay Honig and Landon Malkin approaching her.

"Oy Weasley," Landon called cheerfully. "You joining us then?"

"Yes, if that's all right," she said a bit awkwardly. She shared several training courses with Lindsay and Landon, but didn't really know them all that well. Of course, she was so intent on her training that her social life had been almost completely neglected. "Malfoy asked me to tag along."

Landon's eyebrows rose but all he said was, "Sure it's all right."

"So Ginny, I never really see you around but for classes," Lindsay said.

It wasn't really a question, but Lindsay seemed to expect some sort of reply, so Ginny responded, "Yes, I'm afraid I'm somewhat of a hermit. I'm usually studying or taking some extra lessons from the instructors." Ginny realized too late that it made her sound like a right swot, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She _had_ turned rather Hermione-like. "Where did you go to school?" she asked, to deflect attention off herself.

Lindsay launched into a tale about her well-traveled life, how she had been born in a small town not too far from the Burrow's location in Ottery St. Catchpole, but had moved to Greece when she was three, and moved every two or three years to a new country thereafter, due to her father's business. A few more people arrived during Lindsay's spiel, but not Malfoy.

"My parents and Landon's parents are dying for the two of us to 'make things official' so that we can start producing sprogs," Lindsay confided. "We go along with it while laughing behind their backs because even though it's totally obvious, they don't get that Landon would rather be with Malfoy than with me." She grinned, and Ginny grinned back. "I mean, his favorite thing growing up was helping his grandmother at her shop."

"His grandmother?" Ginny asked, not making the connection. But Lindsay was busy waving to a new arrival. Then it clicked. Ah, he was from _that_ Malkin family. No wonder he and Draco were familiar with one another - wealthy families tended to stick together.

"Your nose is red," drawled a voice from behind her.

Ginny was smiling as she turned around. For some reason she didn't feel her hackles rise as they normally might have. It must be the cold, and how nice it felt to chat to a girl her own age, without having to worry about hexes and defensive posturing and hidden dangers. Perhaps it was the thought that she owed the feeling to his invitation.

"You can tell that from the back of my head?"

"Just making an educated guess. Everything about you is red." His voice was teasing, and Ginny didn't take offense.

"Looks like everyone's here," Landon said. "Let's be off." In another instant, he was gone, and like lights flicking out the others all followed, one by one.

"Where exactly are we going?" Ginny asked, reaching for her wand.

She was so shocked she barely protested when Malfoy wrapped his arms around her. The clean smell of him, the warmth of his embrace, and the soothing tenor of his voice as he said, "I'll take care of it," rendered Ginny silent. He Apparated them to a quiet, cobblestoned street. The fog had settled low here, and it gave the scene a surreal quality. Nearby, the warm glow of lights from a pub beckoned, as did the low hum of voices of people having a good time. The door opened and a couple spilled out, laughing with each other as they stumbled down the street. The din inside could be heard clearly before the door closed again.

Ginny pulled herself out of Malfoy's embrace. "You can just hold a person's arm while Side-Along Apparating, you know," she reprimanded, but though she intended to sound miffed, there was something in her throat and she only ended up sounding slightly gruff.

"Didn't want to risk losing you. I'd have to explain myself to the Ministry," he said haughtily, but smiling slightly. "Shall we?"

They entered the raucous pub, finding their group immediately due to the frantic arm waving Landon was doing.

"Got the last table in the place," Landon said. "We'll have to squeeze together though." Indeed, as their table was for four and they had a party of eight.

A harried-looking waitress stopped by to hand them menus and take their drink orders. It was firewhiskeys all around, as well as individual alcohol choices.

Ginny's stomach growled, and she realized that the last time she'd eaten was a half sandwich in the canteen for lunch. She ravenously perused the menu, and knew immediately what she was going to get when she saw it. She hadn't had one of these since she was a little girl, and a sudden sense of nostalgia - aided and abetted by her hunger pangs - made up her mind.

"What'll it be, love?" the waitress asked, quill poised to take Ginny's order. Most of the others had already ordered, mainly light snack-type items.

"I'd like a chip butty with plenty of butter, salt, vinegar, and tomato sauce," Ginny said, handing the menu back to the server. "Oh, and a bowl of cream of mushroom soup." She busied herself with straightening the napkin on her lap, but looked up when there was an odd silence. Everyone was looking at her. "What? I didn't have supper and I'm starving!" she said defensively.

Lindsay giggled, which broke the amused silence and conversation started up again.

"I like a woman who can eat," Malfoy said, after placing his own order.

He was uncomfortably close to her; they were practically joined shoulder to hip due to the cramped quarters. Ginny tried her best to not think about how warm he felt pressed up against her like this.

"You'll like me," she answered automatically, then felt herself go red. "I mean…" she trailed off as she couldn't think of any way to salvage the embarrassing remark. She ignored his smirk and instead made it a point to listen to the conversation the rest of the table was having - apparently about the odd choice of clothing Auror Hugh-Bends insisted on wearing to instructional periods - and ignore Malfoy.

When her meal arrived Ginny delved into it like a starving woman. It was the most delicious chip butty she'd ever had. It was messy, though, and she kept having to dart her tongue out to the corners of her mouth to catch stray tomato sauce. Once or twice Malfoy opened his mouth as if to say something, but when she looked at him inquiringly he shook his head slightly and stayed silent, the corners of his mouth twitching. It was just as well; most of the time her mouth was stuffed with sandwich and she wouldn't have been able to reply anyway.

How was it possible that she and Draco Malfoy were this physically close to one another, yet not hurtling curses nor having an insult topping contest? She glanced sidelong at him, watching him pop a chip into his mouth (he even made that look, somehow, sophisticated). Maybe he wasn't the same awful prat he'd been at school. Maybe he'd grown up. Then again, maybe she had as well.

Even after the food was gone, the revelry continued. The conversation and alcohol flowed freely, until Ginny lost track of how many drinks she'd had. She waved Malfoy away when he suggested once or twice that she was into her cups; he was drinking just as much as she was, as far as Ginny could tell, so who was he to tell her when she'd had enough? He wasn't content besting her at training, he had to out-drink her, as well? Besides, she was having a good time. Everyone was so entertaining and amusing - that was probably she was laughing so much and so loudly. Luckily in the lively pub their group didn't stand out as being rowdy.

Suddenly, Billy Turnbuckle let out an epithet. "Shite, is that Vance?"

Those four words caught the attention of everyone at the table. Auror Edna Vance was Head of the Auror Academy, and a notorious stickler for the rules.

"Where?" Landon demanded.

"Right there - in the corner. Shit, I think it _is_ her! We're fucked, we're so totally fucked," Billy muttered.

"Don't lose it," Malfoy warned, with much more authority than Ginny was able to muster at the moment. "She's with … it looks like Knox and Fidgemeyer. They're looking at their menus and the waitress is heading toward them." He paused, looking thoughtful. "All right. Once they're engaged, get up one by one and go around that big group to our right. We should be able to use them as cover until we get to the door. Apparate back to the Academy immediately."

Everyone nodded soberly. Except Ginny, who slurred, "I tol' you we weren-aren't allowed to _hiccup_ drink." They all looked worriedly at her for some reason.

"I'll take care of her," Malfoy sighed. He threw down what looked like enough Galleons to cover everyone. "Now go. They're talking to the waitress." Quickly, they each got up and made their way to the exit, by way of the large party that shielded them from view of the Academy instructors.

Malfoy bundled Ginny into her coat and pulled their hoods over their heads as they, too, made their way out. Once outside, Ginny stuck her tongue out to catch a snowflake that was drifting down leisurely, along with a few companions.

Landon was still there, looking miserable. "I left my coat inside."

"Get it tomorrow," Malfoy said.

"My wand's in it. As well as my Ministry ID."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Sorry. I guess I still have to work on my thinking under pressure skills." He looked hopeful. "Think I could just go back in and get it?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't know. You've already got two write ups, haven't you? A third and you'll be out for sure."

"Merlin, I'm an idiot."

Ginny expected Malfoy to agree, but he didn't. He just rubbed his face with one gloved hand. "All right, this is what we'll do. Ginny, you Apparate out of here-" He stopped short when he let go of her to reach into her pocket for her wand and she stumbled a bit. He caught her before she had a chance to fall. "Plan B it is. Malkin, you take my wand and get back to the Academy. Ginny and I will get your coat and wand and be along shortly."

"I could Side-Along with Weasley," Landon suggested.

"No, I think actually I have a better chance of staying incognito with her. No time to explain, just get out of here."

Landon looked doubtfully at the two of them, but accepted Malfoy's wand. "Thanks mate, I owe you one."

"I think it's more like five, but who's keeping count?"

Landon grinned and Disapparated.

Malfoy turned to her. "All right Ginny, I know you're probably too off your face right now to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, but listen to me. We've got to go back in there and retrieve Malkin's coat and wand, so Vance doesn't find out about this little outing and expel us all from the Academy. I know you wouldn't like that."

Ginny nodded sagely, but the hiccup that followed immediately afterward rather ruined it.

Malfoy sighed. "All we've got is your wand now, Ginny. Think you can put a simple disguise on us both?"

"Of course I can," Ginny replied indignantly. "I got better marks than you in Concealment and Disguise."

"Yes but were you plastered then?"

"I'm not plastered!" she exclaimed, swaying slightly.

"And I'll remind you that you scored embarrassingly low in Stealth and Tracking," Malfoy continued.

"I don't _need_ to be stealthy when I can do - this!" She waved her wand at herself, muttering a charm under her breath, and instantly she was a sultry blonde. She could see the long wavy curls on her shoulders.

"Your eyes are, well, orange."

Without a word Ginny waved her wand again and Malfoy relaxed. "That's better. Now do me."

_Oh yes, please,_ Ginny thought, then immediately scolded herself. She _was_ plastered, though she'd deny it to Malfoy with her last breath. She obediently cast her wand over him, turning him into a nondescript, middle-aged man who was balding slightly. She wished he could see himself - his current disguise was probably the stuff of his worst nightmares, and the terror on his face would have been funny.

They entered the pub again, but were chagrined to see that their table had already been cleared, with no sign of Landon's coat. Malfoy flagged down their waitress from earlier and explained that they had been there earlier and their friend had left his coat.

She looked at them suspiciously. "I don't remember you being here."

"We were sitting right there." Malfoy gestured the table that was now occupied by a modest four people. "We were in a rather large party."

"I remember the table. I don't remember _you_."

Ginny could sense that Malfoy was getting agitated. The longer they stood here chatting to the waitress, the more attention they were likely to draw. They couldn't tell the waitress the truth; that would take too long and she might not even believe them. They also couldn't tell her that they had concealment charms on; that was suspicious in itself and she might do something they would regret.

"Our friend was feeling poorly and has already gone home. He asked us to retrieve his coat for him. I would really appreciate your assistance on the matter," Malfoy said smoothly. "We can Floo him if that would make you feel better, but he was getting a bit green so I'm not sure what state he'll be in."

The waitress was starting to look hesitant. If Malfoy had been Malfoy in his normal state, she probably would have already given in.

"Please be a love," Malfoy smiled, taking her hand with both of his. When he let go, Ginny saw the glint of Galleons in the waitress's palm.

"I'll be right back," she said, sweet as syrup now.

As they waited for the waitress to return, Ginny felt suddenly as if she might be sick. She'd felt okay up until now, but her stomach was rebelling. She thought of the chip butty she'd had earlier, and how it was all going to come back up, and felt the nausea increase.

"Malfoy, I'm going to be sick," she mumbled.

"Just hold on a few more minutes," he said, caressing her cheek soothingly. He was a good actor; she was sure that to the other pub patrons he just looked like a loving companion, rather than someone trying to avert disaster.

Luckily the waitress came back shortly with Landon's coat, which Malfoy took quickly. "Thank you so much."

"Any time, love," she replied, then bustled away.

As they lifted their hoods again, Ginny felt her stomach heave, her concentration entirely focused on her nausea. She saw her blonde curls disappear, and Malfoy looking young and handsome again.

"Excuse me," someone called behind them.

Without a word, Malfoy grabbed her hand and Ginny felt her head - and stomach - spin, as she was dragged unceremoniously out the door and down the street, her heels clacking at nearly twice the speed as the person who had her wrist in a vice-grip. She cursed whatever bit of vanity had taken hold of her when she'd chosen these shoes.

"Don't Apparate," she managed to gasp. "I'm really going to be sick."

The two of them tore down a dark alleyway that the nearby streetlamps didn't quite reach, and though Ginny felt her stomach roil, Malfoy's scent was familiar - and thus strangely comforting.

After another few seconds of running, however, she couldn't take it anymore. She stopped short, wrenching her hand back so she could use it to brace herself against a wall while her other hand held her hair back. "I'm going to-" she began, but didn't finish, because it was quite clear what she was about to say when half the drinks, along with the supper she'd consumed that night, came back up. She was glad the alley was so dark, or the sight of her sick probably would have made her even more ill.

When it seemed that there was no more for her body to heave up, she rested her clammy forehead against the wall, which was probably filthy from all sorts of unsavory things, but at the moment it just felt nice and cool against her overheated skin.

"Thanks," she said, after a bit. "Sorry." She didn't know quite what else to say. While being sick had been disgusting and horrible, it had made her feel better. And now that her head was beginning to clear, she was mortified.

"I should hope so," Malfoy said, sounding amused, the insensitive brute. "These shoes cost 400 Galleons."

"Ughhh," said Ginny. To have been sick … in front of Malfoy of all people … what terrible crime had she committed in a past life?

"Please, Weasley, your gushing gratitude is embarrassing me."

"Gratitude? It's your fault I'm here in the first place! I need to sit down," she finished as a wave of dizziness threatened to topple her to the ground.

"Given what you were just doing, I'd advise against it. But then, maybe you don't mind that sort of thing."

She held out her wand. "Just get us out of here, please?" She was surprised by the level of comfort, even trust, that she was feeling. Handing Draco Malfoy her wand? Ordinarily she would have considered herself suicidal. However, after the night's events, and all the opportunities he'd had to do something terrible to her if that had been his intention, she was willing to take the risk. She didn't think she was capable of Side-Along Apparating back to the Academy with him without splinching them both.

Malfoy took her wand and then her clammy hand into his. He Apparated them back to Dumbledore's statue, and the familiar sight was a huge relief to Ginny, who wanted to crawl into the real Dumbledore's lap and tell him what a trying night she'd had, and have him tell her, in that grandfatherly way of his, that her trials weren't so bad and she'd feel better in the morning.

"Your wand," Malfoy said, tucking it into her robes. The back of his hand brushed her hip and she shivered.

"Thanks," she replied croakily, her throat feeling sore. "Listen, Malfoy, I-" She wanted to tell him that she'd actually had a not-terrible time tonight, and that in parts, it had even been nice. But his raised eyebrow dissuaded her. "Never mind. Good night."

"Night, Weasley. Thanks for being a sport about…" He lifted his arm, on which hung Landon's coat.

"Sure," she mumbled. "See you."

He lifted a hand in farewell, and they went in opposite directions toward their respective barracks.

Once in her room Ginny felt loads better. She immediately stripped off her clothing - which seemed to have escaped unscathed, thank Merlin, from her bout of sickness - and went to the bathroom to take a hot shower. The sight of herself in the mirror gave her a fright, and she tried not to care that Malfoy had seen her in such a state.

After the shower, which made her feel almost like a human being again, she pulled on her pajamas and crawled into bed. Just before falling asleep, she grabbed the soldier alarm and turned it off. Just to be safe, she also stuffed it in the last drawer of the bed stand and put an extra pillow on top of it for good measure. Thank Merlin for the weekend.

~*~

It was one of those rare winter days, when the blanket of clouds overhead dissipated for a few glorious hours so that the sun could shine merrily in the sky, warming the hearts of earth's creatures (if not much more, being that it was still cold as a witch's broom closet). That is, if you were a creature of earth _and_ free to enjoy it.

"I don't understand why _I_ have to be the one sitting on her arse in the mud, tending to these sick Abyssinian Shrivelfigs, while Malfoy gets to go gallivanting about, chasing rainbows!" Ginny complained, waving her trowel irritably.

"I'm here with you," Anthony pointed out, padding down a clod of dirt.

"Yes, and thank you," Ginny said, with less graciousness than one might have hoped for. "But you're only here to be nice and keep me company. You weren't _assigned_ to this." She dug into the earth forcefully with her trowel. That morning, despite being the weekend, she and five other trainees - including Malfoy - had been called into Auror Vance's office and given special assignments. Ordinarily Ginny might not have minded, as she didn't have a lot to do during the weekends anyway, but to get a less-than-thrilling assignment coupled with the fact that Malfoy had been chosen to go on some sort of _real_ assignment with a few of the Ministry's full-fledged Aurors had put Ginny in a rather bad mood.

"Well, you did get an Outstanding in your Herbology N.E.W.T. And the Academy's gardens are extremely important. It supplies half the materials required for potions used in the field."

"I know that," Ginny said begrudgingly, glaring at a particularly sickly looking Shrivelfig. "But I chose _not_ to pursue a career in Herbology. I want to experience danger and excitement too! That's why I _chose_ to be a bloody Auror."

"You don't know he's experiencing any danger and excitement," Anthony said. "For all we know, he could be completely bored out of his mind right now."

"He's not," Ginny replied with certainty, picking up a pair of pruning shears. "Just to spite me, I know he's not." She wiped sweat away from her temple and ended up smearing dirt on her cheek.

The greenhouse door opened and Landon popped his head in. "Hello. Haven't seen Malfoy around, by any chance?"

"He's off chasing rainbows!" Ginny replied angrily, throwing the shears to the ground.

Landon raised his eyebrows. "Well all right, no need to get into a strop."

Ginny glared at him, trying to communicate with just a look that he still owed her for bailing him out at the pub last night. She didn't want to say anything out loud, since Anthony was there and hadn't been invited; it would have been quite rude and boorish to mention it.

Landon seemed to have got the message. He had the grace to turn a bit red and mumbled, "Must dash," before leaving.

"Sorry, Ginny, I have to go too. I told Edward Braithwaite I'd spot him on the pitch."

"All right, thanks for keeping me company," she said, trying to sound cheery and grateful. After all, it wasn't Anthony's fault that Malfoy had gotten some cushy assignment and she had been relegated to gardening duty.

Despite her complaints, once Anthony left Ginny became immersed in her work; this was familiar territory to her and she did enjoy it. She worked quickly, her movements deft and sure. The Shrivelfigs had been somewhat neglected and had not flourished under less-than-ideal growing conditions, but all was certainly not lost. They just needed some individual attention for the next few weeks and fed daily with a mugwort and cranberry leaf mixture, which Ginny had developed during her stint at Leaves and Weeds, Inc.

She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't realize anyone had entered the greenhouse until a voice spoke behind her, making her jump.

"I always knew you'd be on your knees in front of me some day."

Ginny raised a hand to her racing heart, looking behind her. "You startled me." Then she noticed his appearance. "Malfoy! What happened to you?" she exclaimed.

He looked as though he'd been through a war. He was wearing Muggle clothing, but every inch of it was torn and dirty, grime and sweat had dried on his face, which also sported a few scratches, and his hair was unkempt. Ginny had never seen him looking so out of sorts. All the dirt, however, had the strange effect of making his gray eyes look impossibly light and hypnotic as he bent down so they were on the same level.

"You are so lucky you have an actual talent and have been here the whole time, working away without a care in the world."

Ginny snorted. "Oh yes, I'm so lucky," she answered sarcastically. "I feel _so_ sorry for you, having to go on an actual Ministry assignment."

"You're really jealous?" He sounded surprised. "If you knew what my 'assignment' entailed, you wouldn't be."

"So enlighten me." She straightened up, twisting her neck left then right to get out the cricks. She had done all she could do for the Shrivelfigs. Ginny gathered the gardening implements and began putting them back in their proper places.

"Well first of all, I had to rush to the suspect's location. We'd gotten a late alert so nothing was prepared. Do you know what kind of havoc traveling at that speed on a broom does to my hair?"

Ginny couldn't suppress a smile. She glanced over her shoulder at him, giving his appearance a particularly long look. "Yes, actually." She pulled on her coat and donned her gloves.

"Well then you know I was in a bad mood from the start." Companionably, they exited the greenhouse. "Have you got a minute? I'd like to show you something. But I don't want to do it out in the open," he whispered conspiratorially.

"I've heard that one before," Ginny said dryly, but followed him in the direction of the men's barracks. For some reason, after last night, it was almost as if they were … friends. "Are you going to tell me about how you got to looking like something a giant stepped on then peeled from his shoe?"

"I'm getting to it. Have some patience, woman. The rainbow was fast disappearing. If we didn't reach it in the next 10 minutes, it'd be gone entirely, and with it, our suspect. Some arsehole named Briony was in charge, and it wasn't until I was standing at the end of the rainbow like some total git that I realized: I was bait."

"You were bait?" Ginny had to laugh.

"Yes, can you imagine? I was the schmuck who goes looking for a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and ends up getting robbed instead. We had to lure out the so-called 'leprechaun' and apparently I was the only one they had on hand to play the part of 'damned idiot.'"

Suddenly Ginny was in a lot better mood about her day. "Let me guess: you were roughed up a bit."

"A bit? Have you looked at me? You know how horribly tempered the Irish are. He was small but scrappy, and I couldn't do a thing to defend myself. I didn't have my wand, as I was supposed to be some clueless Muggle, and in any case I thought the Aurors were going to jump right in and save me. I guess they got a kick out of seeing me get duffed up by this creature less than half my size. I kept wondering if they were ever going to intercede."

"That's terrible!" Ginny said sympathetically. No doubt he was correct; a lot of Aurors at the Ministry would probably give a lot to see Malfoy get beaten to a bloody pulp by a 'leprechaun.' She actually felt disgruntled on his behalf, but knew that complaining or encouraging him to file a complaint would be useless.

"Anyway, after about a century, they finally jumped into the fray, wands blazing, looking like the heroes coming to save the day while I was still on the ground, trying to recover from the indignity of it all. Here we are." He unlocked the door and they both stepped inside.

It didn't look very different from her own room, though perhaps a little more cluttered. Malfoy's roommate was not there, and Ginny couldn't tell at a glance which side of the room was his. It soon became apparent, however, when she spotted the photographs that favored one side of the room. Malfoy's side had no photographs whatsoever. Ginny felt a pang of pity, but suppressed it because she knew he wouldn't appreciate it.

"Where's your roommate?"

"Macrina? On leave for two weeks, the lucky bastard," he said, sounding muffled from the depths of his closet.

"A vacation sounds fantastic," Ginny admitted.

"Perhaps we'll get you drunk in another country next time." Before she could comment on his use of the word 'we' in conjunction with a vacation plan, he emerged from the closet with a fresh change of clothes. "_Viola_," Malfoy said dramatically, flipping her something that glinted in the air as it made its way to her.

At first Ginny thought it was a Galleon, but the shape and size were wrong. Plus there weren't any markings on it and it was much heavier than-"Malfoy! Is this what I think it is?"

Malfoy grinned. "Turns out, there really _is_ a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. The 'leprechauns' put it there to lure unsuspecting Muggles, who aren't, of course, actually supposed to get any of it. This particular pot was confiscated by the Ministry. And that coin was confiscated by me."

Ginny laughed, horrified and delighted at the same time. "This is stealing!"

"After what they put me through? Least they owed." Ginny couldn't argue with that. "And now I have a memento of my first Ministry assignment. I shall treasure it always." He smirked. "Mind if I shower? I look and smell like shite."

"Won't get any argument from me there," Ginny said, waving him away. She watched him disappear into the bathroom with his change of clothes and tried not to think about him naked. She failed.

While he was in the bathroom she took the opportunity to nose about. She felt only slightly guilty about it; he'd invited her to his room so he had to expect it, really. He had the same pile of textbooks she had sitting on her own desk, except his looked considerably less worn. How annoying. There were also several racing broom magazines and a small pile of literature that Ginny approved of. She was trying to get a better view of one of the titles when the door to the bathroom opened and she straightened quickly, knocking the book to the floor. A piece of paper floated out, which had been serving as a bookmark.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, hurriedly bending down to pick up the paper and the book. "I'm afraid I don't know what page this was on…" She picked up the paper and recognized it as official N.E.W.T. achievement scores. The edges were crinkled and worn from being used as a bookmark and the ink was fading. She couldn't help but stare at it, as if a little piece of the puzzle she'd been missing all this time, that she hadn't even known had been missing, had just dropped into her lap. According to this, Malfoy hadn't had the marks to get into the Auror training program. "But … but that means …" her voice faltered as her speech tried to keep up with her thoughts.

One eyebrow rose quizzically at her as he made his way over, bending down to pick up the book she'd knocked to the floor and had completely forgotten about. "Is the answer to 'How many licks does it take to get to the center of an Exploding Bonbon?' on there? I've always been curious but never actually brave enough to find out."

"You got into the Academy under the Battle of Hogwarts clause," she blurted. "You didn't have the marks to get in otherwise."

"Jesus, Weasley. Hasn't anyone ever taught you the art of subtlety? Bluntly stating the truth hurts my ego _and_ my feelings," Malfoy said, looking more amused than anything.

"You had to have actually participated in the Battle to get in under that clause," she continued, knowing she was stating the obvious but needing to say it. "So that means you helped our side, Malfoy. You … fought with us."

He didn't say anything but looked at her intently. "Does this mean something to you, Ginny?"

_It means I was wrong about you_, she thought, but couldn't say it. She'd made a lot of assumptions that no one could probably blame her for, but that didn't make her feel any less ashamed. She hadn't seen Malfoy participating in the Battle; neither had Harry or Ron or Hermione or apparently anyone she'd known, or they had not said anything. However, someone knew. And that someone had made sure that Malfoy's actions were recorded and treated with the same respect as any other participant of that battle.

If she were honest with herself, however, she knew that her efforts in the last year or so to best him hadn't really been based on her distrust of him, but on her own desire to prove to herself and everyone else that she was Auror material. And though she was well loved by her family and friends, it was sometimes hard to step out of the shadows of the heroes who'd made their marks on the world already. Malfoy was the ultimate symbol, from her childhood days, of someone who didn't give her credit for who she was or what she could do. But now he was no longer just a symbol; he was a person. A real person, whom she was starting to realize she didn't know very much about at all.

"Malfoy, I'm s-" _I'm sorry_, she'd been about to say, because though it seemed woefully inadequate, it needed to be said. Her words, however, were stopped by his suddenly leaning in and planting a forceful kiss on her lips. She gasped, but that was lost too as the kiss deepened and his tongue got involved. Ginny hadn't been kissed like this in … ever. It made her realize that she'd been wanting him to do this since last night, perhaps even longer, and maybe Malfoy felt the same. It gave a whole new perspective to their rivalry when it came to their studies and in the field.

Before she knew it, they were no longer on the floor and instead were on a soft, yielding surface - his bed. He was kissing her over and over, so relentlessly that several times they had to stop for breath. Yet his urgency in no way alarmed her; his embrace was solid but not suffocating. Ginny knew she could stop him any time she wanted, and she would, just as soon as he stopped making her feel so wonderful.

"Ginny," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "You're not doing this because you … somehow feel obligated or guilty or sorry for me, are you?"

"No!" she said. She touched his cheek, which felt surprisingly rough. Apparently even Malfoys had stubble; it was just too blond to be noticeable. "I promise. I wouldn't do that … Draco."

Then there were no more words, only the sounds of kissing and bed sheets rustling and clothes dropping to the floor. Then there were gasps, and moans, and laughter in between. If Ginny hadn't been a witch, she still would have believed in magic after that afternoon. Malfoy's hands … his tongue … his everything, worked a magic on her that made her feel more alive than she had in years. And later, when they were lying next to each other on Malfoy's Ministry-issued bed, Ginny had the thought that life was very strange and wonderful indeed.

After a few moments of waiting for their racing hearts to slow and listening to each other breathe, Ginny started to get up. Malfoy pulled her right back. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Do you mind?" she said primly, slapping away his restraining hand and wrapping the top sheet around herself. She got up haughtily, then giggled when he lightly whacked her backside. She made her way over to his desk, where she picked up one of his textbooks.

"You're going to _study_?" he asked incredulously. "_Now_?"

"Worried about your skills, Malfoy?" It felt good to be the one smirking.

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, but did look a bit concerned. "You haven't turned into one of those unbearable swots, have you?"

"I was just thinking," she said, climbing back into bed. "That it might make for a nice change of pace if we studied _together_. For once."

"So the answer to my question is yes, then."

And for a long time there was nothing but the sound of a book hitting a hard surface, and of expletives filling the air.

As Ginny settled in next to Draco, she imagined what her soldier clock would look like on Draco's nightstand; she wondered if it would survive even one morning. Perhaps she ought to give it to him as a gift.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. :-) Here was the original request:
> 
> Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: Draco and Ginny are trainees in the Auror Training Program. Both think the other shouldn't be there, and both compete to out do the other (in exams, field exercises, instruction, etc). Canon info on Aurors and the training program can be found here: http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Auror
> 
> \- The tone/mood of the fic: Action/Drama   
> \- An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: Field exercises where Draco and Ginny are forced to work together.


End file.
